Fly Me to the Moon
by AdmHawthorne
Summary: After overhearing a conversation between Torres and a member of her staff, Seven begins to wonder about her interactions with Captain Janeway and what they actually mean. Yes, folks, this will be J/7.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: It's been about 15 years since I last wrote Voyager fic. Please be gentle with me.**

**Disclaimer: Characters are no mine. They belong to Paramount, the Roddenberry estate, and other assorted important people. I gain nothing out of this but the joy of doing, so please don't sue me.**

* * *

"Is it too much to ask for you to leave me alone for longer than 20 minutes?" B'elanna Torres growled from under the console in Engineering she was attempting working on. "I told everyone to leave me alone and let me finish this before the captain comes down here wanting to know why it's not done, and, if I have to tell her it's not done because _you keep…_" She slid from under the console to look up at the intruder.

Captain Janeway looked down at her, a bemused expression on her face. "I'm sorry, Chief. In the future, I'll make a mental note to not interrupt you until _after_ the captain comes down for her inspection."

"Captain!" B'elanna made a move to swiftly stand, only to just miss the console she was still partially under. With a grunt and a few sworn oaths made under her breath, she managed to twist her way up to a standing position. "I didn't realize you'd be down so soon."

"I hadn't planned on it, but repairs to the rest of the ship seem to be going smoothly, and I was getting a little tired of sitting in my ready room going over reports, so I thought I'd take my stroll a bit earlier than normal today."

"Oh," the chief engineer croaked out, managing to sound irritated and embarrassed at the same time. "I… uh… thought you were someone else."

"Obviously," Janeway replied with a chuckle. "Let me guess: Seven of Nine?"

"It's not that we're not getting along," the young woman quickly spat out. "It's just that she's being… well… she's just been more, you know, _meticulous_ than usual. Ever since you two came back from that little 'incident' where she stole a shuttle and decided there was some huge conspiracy on the ship for the Maquis to take over, it's like she's been on some kind of crusade to prove something."

Janeway cocked an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"I honestly have no idea." The brunette let out a heavy huff. "I wish I did because whatever is that she's stuck on now is starting to make working with her _worse_ than when we first disconnected her from the collective."

"That bad?" The captain frowned at the very idea. Seven had been close to nightmarish for the half-Klingon to work with in the beginning. There were pools, of which she wasn't supposed to be aware, on how long it would take before the two came to actual blows. That was a time period Janeway would rather not relive.

"Yeah, it's that bad." B'elanna leaned back against the console and crossed her arms, looking for all the word as if she was rearing up to challenge the older woman in front of her. "Captain, you have to do something about it before the rest of us go crazy."

"I'll have a talk with her." With a grim nod, Janeway turned on her heels.

* * *

"Seven?" Cautiously, Janeway stepped into Astrometrics.

"Captain," the young woman turned to face her visitor, hands coming to rest behind her back as she quirked an eyebrow. "I didn't know to expect you. Is there something you require?"

"I just wanted to check in," Janeway replied with her best reassuring smile. "How are things?"

"Everything is functioning within normal parameters. The recent additions to the star charts will be a helpful piece of information as we continue to navigate this quadrant, and the diagnostic…"

"With _you_, Seven." The older woman gave the tiniest of smirks. "I meant how are things with you?"

"I, too, am functioning within normal parameters." Seven sighed. "Has Lt. Torres indicated otherwise?"

Janeway couldn't hide the chuckle, despite herself. "What makes you ask that?"

"She and I have been having," the blonde paused, struggling for the correct word, "issues recently regarding the inefficies her calibrations in Engineering are causing to Astrometrics."

"I see." Nibbling at the corner of her mouth to try and stop the full on smirk threatening to come out, Janeway moved to lean against the console closest to the other woman. "And what inefficiens would those be?"

"The list is long," the ex-drone dryly intoned. "It would take at least ten minutes to recite it all. I would be happy to do so, or would you prefer I put it into a report?"

"No," holding up a hand to stop any further thought on it, Janeway looked down to compose herself lest she let the chuckle threatening to overtake her win. She recognized what was going on. Her ex-Borg was giving her half-Klingon a hard time for some reason. Realistically, she shouldn't be so amused by the situation, but she couldn't help herself. It was like watching sister bicker, but with a real chance someone was going to Sickbay, which probably should make the whole thing less amusing, but, given the players involved, just seemed to amuse the captain all the more.

She took a few seconds to compose before bringing her eyes up to meet Seven's. "Why are you really antagonizing B'elanna? I've seen the recent reports regarding her recalibrations that affect Astrometrics, and there isn't any indication of any reduction in efficiency. So," she raised her eyebrows and narrowed her eyes just a touch, "what happened to make you decide to egg her on, hmm?"

"I don't know what you mean, Captain." Seven turned back to her console, eyes suddenly glued to the display in front of them.

"Oh, I think you do. I know you, Seven, and I know that, when someone has annoyed you, you like to annoy them back." The older woman gave a shake of her head to stop the obvious protest about to be voiced. "You can deny it all you'd like, but the fact remains, you have a wicked sense of payback when someone has done something to you that isn't worth a write-up but is worth retaliation. I've seen you do it a number of times. Often, it's to Mr. Paris, who I normally believe gets what he deserves, but," she held a finger up in the air, giving it a little way, "every now and again, it's someone else. So, tell me what happened."

The lab was quiet for a few long seconds before the blonde conceded to the determined look being aimed at her from the auburn haired woman beside her. "I do not appreciate being called unworthy."

"Unworthy?" Janeway was struck. That was something she'd never expect to hear B'elanna say of Seven, at least not now. "Unworthy of what?"

"Of the… time you seem to spend with me compared to others on the ship." The young woman looked away, eyes drawn to anything but the captain. "I realize I'm not the only member of your crew you consider a friend, and I have no intention of monopolizing your time, but I thought," she paused, swallowing hard as her hands seemed to move faster over the console, "perhaps you desired to spend the time with me, not because you felt obligated."

Rolling her head back and taking in a deep breath, Janeway mentally counted to ten to stop herself from flying back down to Engineering and flaying her chief engineer alive for being presumptuous, jealous, and setting the ex-drone backwards in her progress toward self-confidence. "I spend time with those I wish to spend time with, Seven," she gently replied. "My obligations to spend time with certain members of the crew stop when I step inside my quarters. Anyone I invite into my inner sanctuary is there because I welcome their company, not because I feel it my duty to speak with them."

Slowly, the young blonde's eyes moved to meet the other woman's. "So you don't allow me to come to your quarters for conversations because you feel I need to be 'petted'?"

"No." Janeway let out a heavy sigh. "I allow you into my personal space because I appreciate our conversations. It's rare to find someone whose conversations and ways of looking at the universe are as unique as yours." She gave a tender smile. "I like talking to you, Seven."

"As I do you." Pulling back from her console, the blonde returned to her usually harsh stance. "I find our conversations invigorating, challenging."

"Exactly." Janeway raised her hand to briefly touch the other woman's arm. "Don't let the ship's gossip get to you. If you're ever in doubt, come ask me. I haven't lied to you yet, and I'm not about to start."

"Thank you, Captain. I will."

"And lay off B'elanna. I think she's suffered enough for her inconsideration, but, if she brings it up again, I want you to let me know so I can have a talk with her about appropriate conduct."

"I would prefer that you didn't. Having interacted with Lt. Torres for well over a year, I feel it safe to say that she would take offensive if someone else approached her regarding issues I have with her. I will," Seven stiffened, "speak to her myself."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea. From the looks of things, you two are on a war path with each other." Janeway tilted her head in thought. "But you _are _right about one thing. It's better if you two can work it out together. What if I have Commander Chakotay serve as a mediator?"

"I started this strife because of something I overhead that I likely shouldn't have," Seven stood firm, shoulders squaring. "I will correct the damage."

After a moment's consideration, the captain gave a curt nod. "If you two come to blows, I'm locking you both in the brig where you'll be sharing the same cell."

Seven visibly winced. "Understood."

* * *

"Lt. Torres, a moment?" Seven stood a respectful distance from the Chief Engineer, who had moved onto running diagnostics on the system she'd been calibrating when the captain had come by earlier.

"Now isn't really a good time, Seven," she replied without bothering to look up. "Maybe later."

The blonde sighed. "I wish to apologize."

B'elanna's head snapped up so quickly she flinched. "What?"

"I have been… antagonistic over the past few days, and I wish to apologize for it. My behavior was inappropriate." The ex-drone took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she waited for a response.

"So you _were_ trying to piss me off?" The brunette's jaw clenched for a second. "What the hell, Seven? I mean… _why_ would you do that?"

"Because you angered me when you told Ensign Drayer that you thought the amount of time Captain Janeway spends with me is more than she ought. I was… offended that you would think I was unworthy of the captain's time."

"You heard that?" B'elanna closed her eyes against their roll. "Well, you apparently heard part of that anyway." She sighed. "Look, that's not exactly what I was saying to Drayer the other day." She paused as if something had just occurred to her. "How the hell did you even hear that conversation? We were in a Jeffries tube on deck 12 when we were talking about all of this."

"I was in an adjacent tube," Seven glanced away, a blush forming high on her cheeks, "attempting some privacy."

"You were hiding in a Jeffries tube?" B'elanna snorted. "From what?"

"Everyone," came the quiet response. "On this ship it is… difficult for me to find any time to myself. My quarters are the cargo bay where many items are stored that need to be accessed on a regular basis and at seemingly random times, and the doctor often steps into any holodeck program I may run to 'check on me,' which leaves me little time to myself. As a drone," she finally looked back at the other woman, "I was accustomed to always being with others, but, now, I find I sometimes need time apart. The Jeffries tubes on deck 12 are rarely accessed, and I found it was a good spot to be alone."

"I guess it's never occurred to me that you'd _want_ any privacy." The engineer winced at her own insensitivity. "Have you spoken to the captain about the possibility of getting quarters of your own?"

"No, I don't wish to trouble her with it, and, with limited space aboard Voyager, it makes logical sense for me to remain where I am." Seeming to shake the thoughts away, Seven turned her focus back to the task at hand. "That is why I overheard your conversation with Ensign Drayer, and your conversation is why I was antagonistic over the past few days. As I said, I'm sorry for my behavior. I won't do it again."

B'elanna signed, giving up all hope of working as she debated explaining her conversation with Drayer to the other woman or letting it go. On one hand, if she let it go, then nothing more would come of any of it, and things would go on as they normally do. On the other hand, the captain was getting testier by the day, and what could it hurt to stir the pot and see if maybe something good could come out of the mess that was, well, everything most days?

Shaking her head at the poor life choice she was about to make, B'elanna took in a deep breath. "Seven, Drayer and I weren't talking about you being _unworthy_ of the captain's attention. We were talking about how Captain Janeway seems to want to spend all her free time with you. Before you came on board, it was Chakotay she spend most of her free time with, but, now?" She shrugged. "If she's not working or sleeping, she's with you."

Seven tilted her head in confusion. "And you think this is a bad thing?"

"No," the brunette slowly shook her head in the negative. "A lot of us have noticed it, and we think," she grunted, not wanting to put ideas in the younger woman's head if those ideas weren't already there. "It's just that it's rare for the captain to be so willing to share her private time with anyone. Even when she was spending most of her free time with Chakotay, I don't think they ever were as close as you two are. It's just… interesting is all."

"Interesting?" Seven seemed to process what she'd just been told for a very long breath. "Do you have a theory as to why Captain Janeway acts this way towards me and not other members of the crew?"

"Ah, well," B'elanna ducked her head and turned back to her work, "anything I'd have to say about it would just be a guess, and I know how much you hate guesses. Look, I've got to get back to work, but… we're good now, ok? I mean, so long as you quit trying to tick me off, we're good."

"We are 'good,' then, as I will not be actively trying to antagonize you anymore," Seven responded with a tick of puzzlement in her voice. After a curt nod from the brunette, she turned on her heels to head back to Astrometrics, her mind running through all the possible reasons Captain Janeway would want to spend time with her and settling on the reason the captain had given herself. She liked to talk to Seven as Seven liked to talk to her.

However, the longer Seven considered both the reason given to her by Janeway and the odd conversation she'd had with B'elanna, the more unsettled she became with the reason she'd been given. She needed to have a better understanding of this type of human interaction, and, since the Captain was not an option to speak with about this because it was about her, that left Seven with only one other option.

She needed to speak with the Doctor.

* * *

**Reviews keep me motivated. I'm looking at you, Kay.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency."

"There is none," Seven replied, waiting for the EMH to gain his bearings. "I wish to speak with you."

"Ah, Seven! Of course, how can I help?" He gave his best dazzling smile, clearly happy to see her.

Her back tightened and jaw clenched. She was suddenly having doubts that talking to the doctor was actually a good idea. "I wanted to discuss an observation members of the crew have had regarding me and another person on board."

He was intrigued. Leaning against a biobed, he motioned welcomingly with his hand. "Alright, what are these observations?"

"I am told that this person spends their free time almost exclusively with me. In addition, I've been told that such behavior was once reserved for a different crewmember but, since my arrival, that has changed significantly. Further," she continued on as if reciting the periodic table, "this person seems to share more of their personal identity with me than they do others, and they initiate activities outside of duty requirements more with me than with others."

He nodded. "And what is your interpretation of these actions?"

"I assumed we had developed a friendship," she replied, a touch of uncertainty lacing her words. "However, the implication of the conversation I've recently had regarding this person leaves me questioning if that is correct."

"I see." Crossing his arms, he gave her a deeply pointed look. "And have you spoken directly to this person regarding these observations?"

"In a way." At his up ticked eyebrow, she elaborated. "When I first heard of these observations, I was angry because I thought I understood them to mean people thought I was unworthy of this person spending time with me, and the time provided to me was out of duty. The individual and I discussed that situation, however, and I was assured the reason for the amount of time spent with me was because the person desired my friendship."

He narrowed his eyes. "Did you believe this person?"

"Yes. I've never had reason to ever doubt them." She shifted uncomfortably, pulling her hands behind her to cover for the movement. "After the person and I spoke, I confronted one of the crewmembers who had been talking about the two of us, and the crewmember explained they didn't think I was unworthy or that the person was spending time with me out of duty but, rather, that it was unusual for the person to do so. After having time to contemplate the conversation, I realize the crewmember was implying there was some other reason than friendship for why this individual gives so willingly of their personal time to me."

He nodded his head in an 'ah-ha' fashion. "And what motive would that be?"

"I don't know." She gave a puzzled look to the oddly crestfallen hologram in front of her. "That is why I'm here speaking with you about it. I would go to the person, but I wanted a better understanding before I spoke with them. I prefer to be prepared."

"Yes, of course you do," he mumbled to himself. Shaking away whatever disappointment was assaulting him, he returned his focus. "Do you have any theories?"

"None that I would deem plausible given the parameters I'm aware of regarding the individual in question." She tilted her head as she continued, processing her thoughts as she spoke. "As I consider the implication of the conversation I had with the crewmember regarding this situation, I don't believe the motivation of the person is nefarious, nor would I believe the person would ever hurt me. There has never been an indication this person is out for any sort of gain by knowing me, though, with the amassed knowledge I have from the Collective, that certainly would be an understandable motivation. However, this person has never shown any want for personal gain of any kind. It is possible there is a romantic reason behind our interactions, but," she narrowed her eyes at his start of surprise, "that is highly unlikely on many fronts. First, their duty would prevent such a relationship from forming, and they are also female. Although I'm fully aware that homosexuality and bisexuality exists, this person has never indicated attraction to another female."

"Are _you_ attracted to other females," the doctor asked and then looked as though he might turn pale at his outburst had he the ability to do so. "I mean, we haven't exactly discussed your dating preferences since that whole… situation with Lt. Chapman and myself." Obviously flustered, he nonetheless moved on. "Had I been aware at the time that you are also attracted to women…"

"I generally am not," she cut in, already tired of the direction the conversation was taking. Her intention was not to discuss her sexual identity. Her intention was to discuss why Captain Janeway acted so differently with her than others. "Although," she added hesitantly, "the longer I remain an individual, the more I find that possibility not out of the range of reasoning," she gave him a hard look, "_someday_. As we've already discussed, I still don't feel there is anyone compatible for me to date on board."

"No one at all?" He shook his head. "Are you certain, Seven?"

"Yes. Either by duty, design, or degree, there are no members of the crew I could date even if I desired such a thing."

He took a small step forward to accent the verbal push he was making. "What if duty were not a factor?"

"It _is_ a factor, doctor. I fail to see how discussing hypotheticals of unattainable situations is productive, nor do I see how this conversation is assisting with my original query."

He withdrew, holding a hand up in feign defeat. "Alright." He began to pace slightly. "Is this individual human?"

She raised her chin in an almost defiant manner. "Yes."

He nodded as if he already knew that answer. "Humans are an interesting species, Seven. When they want something they can't have or want to do something they know they shouldn't, they're often drawn to that thing. I've studied this phenomenon both in the actions of the crew here and in historical records. I believe it's their innate curiosity and their drive to conquer their fears that pushes them toward such things."

She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head in observation. "I would argue those are self-destructive tendencies."

He chuckled. "I wouldn't disagree. Many a human crewmember has come stumbling into my sickbay with some injury or another because they just couldn't resist trying out a certain holodeck program without the safety protocols on or they ventured too far out during an away team mission or," he gave a nonchalant shrug, "they were in a relationship with someone they shouldn't have been and ended up hungover from contraband alcohol after the breakup."

"Humanity is illogical," she observed with a sigh. "This would be easier if humans were more like Vulcans. Then perhaps I would understand this situation better."

"Don't let Tuvok and Vorik fool you, Seven." The EMH grinned. "Vulcans can be as emotional and illogical as any human. They just hide it better." He leaned forward to comment in a conspiratorial tone. "Vulcans, after all, were explorers long before humans."

She raised an incredulous eyebrow at him. "What are you suggesting this person's motivations are? Do you think there is an underlying desire for a romantic relationship as part of their motivation to seek time with me?"

"I don't know." He straightened and ran a hand over his mouth in thought. "And the only way you will is to talk to them. The worst that can happen is that she confirms what you already think you know, which is she is uninterested in a romantic relationship with you."

"I don't believe that would be the worst case scenario, doctor." Her mouth formed a hard line as she considered the possibilities. "I believe the worst case would be she confirms she does have romantic feelings for me."

He shook his head in confusion. "Why would that be so bad?"

"Because she would never act upon them, and I believe it would destroy the relationship we have, and I can't," her voice waivered, "imagine not at least having her as my friend."

He nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry, Seven. I wish I had some helpful advice on this situation. Unfortunately, not all situations have amicable solutions."

"Yes, so I've learned." Glancing around the room, she took in the clean lines and antiseptic quality of the environment and suddenly felt suffocated by it. "I must go, doctor. Thank you for your time."

"Of course," he called out to her quickly retreating form. "Come back and see me if you…" The doors shut before his offer was out. With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, he walked to his desk to begin his review of the tests he'd run the day before on Ensign Bronowski. There was obviously nothing left he could do for Seven.

* * *

"So, _then_, I told Harry that, if he insists on attempting to show off his climbing skills in front of a Delaney twin, he could at least do it in front of the _right_ twin." Paris gave the ensign a grin from his station. "Always going after the wrong woman, Harry."

"Tom, do you really have to tell everyone about that?" The younger officer fidgeted at his station.

"Well, you have to admit it's pretty funny," Chakotay replied with a grin. "Besides, we've all been there. You try to impress a girl and end up flat on your ass in the process."

"Speak for yourself, Commander," Tuvok cut in. "I have never done any such thing. Further, I fail to see how this conversation is relevant to our duties on the bridge."

"Come on, Tuvok, when are you ever going to lighten up?" Tom pointed to the view screen with his free hand. "There's nothing going on out there, the captain is in her ready room probably drinking coffee and reading a Bronte novel, and, for a change, we don't have some alien of the week, or worse the Borg, breathing down our throats. We should be able to joke around just a little bit every now and again."

"Besides," Chakotay added with a grin, "it's not every day you get to hear about Ensign Kim getting stuck hanging upside down from the cargo bay scaffolding."

"I wasn't stuck," Harry strongly protested. "I was momentarily detained."

Tom snorted. "If your pants leg hadn't ripped, you'd still be stuck up there, and Seven would've had a new thing to stare at when she was having problems regenerating."

"Although the view would no doubt be humorous, I would eventually be annoyed at the distraction and pull him down myself," Seven called out as she exited the turbolift.

"That's too bad," Tom said in mock mourning. "You could've had a really interesting installation piece. We could've called it 'Harry Kim's World."

"Sometimes I really hate you, Tom," Kim grumbled.

"Nah, you don't," the pilot shot back with a chuckle.

"Seven, what brings you to the bridge today?" Chakotay pulled himself away from the antics to focus on her, giving his best welcoming smile. "The captain is in her ready room."

"I don't wish to speak to the captain just now," she responded hesitantly and noted in her peripheral a few surprised looks. "I was wondering if you had some time after you duty shift to discuss something with me. I am," she could feel her face twitch in disgust at herself for asking this man who had once been such a strong advocate of taking her life for his help, "in need of your counsel."

The hidden looks of surprise became obvious looks of disbelief, the biggest of which resided on the face of the commander. "I think I have some time this afternoon. Where would you like to meet?"

"Your office." Her jaw flexed as she added through gritted teeth, "Please?"

He nodded. "Sure. I'll see you there after my shift."

She gave a curt nod and turned on her heels to return to the tubrolift, keenly aware that all eyes were on her. As the lift doors closed, Chakotay turned to look at Tuvok who returned his look of confusion with the same coolness he always displayed. The commander nodded in the direction of the lift, "Any idea what that was all about?"

"None," the Vulcan replied.

"Okay," Chakotay said through a sigh. "Well, this afternoon ought to be interesting."

"I'd like to be a fly on _that_ wall," Tom said a little too loudly.

The first officer turned his attention to the pilot. "Why is that, Tom?"

Paris hung his head in defeat. He should have kept his mouth shut. Instead, he turned to look at the other man. "Well, B'elanna told me at lunch today that Seven confronted her about a conversation she and Drayer were having in a Jeffries tube a few days ago. Apparently," he could feel the hairs rising on the back of his neck. If Captain Janeway walked out in the middle of this story, they were all toast, "she and Drayer were talking about the… uh …_extra_ amount of time the captain seems to spend with Seven."

Chakotay fell back into his chair and groaned. "That's just great."

"It could be worse," Tom offered with a look of pity before shaking his head sadly. "No, I'm lying. I can't really think of how that could get worse."

"Oh, I could," the commander replied with a wince. "I could think of about a hundred different ways this could end badly." He wiped his hand over his face as he considered his options. "Tuvok, what do you think?"

"I do not." The security officer continued to watch his displays. "Whatever may or may not be occurring between the captain and a member of her crew is none of my concern unless it directly or overtly indirectly affects the operations and security of the ship. I have complete confidence in the captain's ability to maintain a professional command."

"Right," Chakotay mumbled more to himself than as a reply, "of course you don't." Wiping a hand across his forehead, he stood up and turned to the ready room before seeming to think better of it and turning to the lift. "I need to take care of a few things before I talk to Seven this afternoon. Tuvok, you have the bridge."

* * *

**A/N I'm SO glad there are few people reading this! Thank you for the reviews. (To continue with my review whore ways...) I hope you keep 'em coming!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Do you have minute?" Chakotay all but cornered B'elanna just inside an access port to the upper deck of Engineering.

"Sure," she replied on the defensive, crossing her arms and setting her stance.

He nodded, moving to unblock the door but making it clear he expected her to remain where she was. "I wanted to talk to you about your discussion with Ensign Drayer the other day."

She swallowed, shifting from her heels to the balls of her feet. "Which discussion? We talk a lot."

"The one Seven overheard," he replied with a hint if irritation. A game of cat and mouse was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now.

She grunted. "What did Tom tell you?"

"Not much, and I need to know everything because Seven has requested my counsel this afternoon." He gave a helpless shrug. "My only reasonable guess is it's about whatever you said to Drayer."

"You don't know that." She was aiming for deflection. She really wasn't sure how much Seven had actually heard, and she truly didn't want to tell the commander everything because most of it was about him and the captain. "She could want to change her shift rotation or something."

"And risk losing the same days off as the captain? I doubt it." He exhaled noisily, eyes quickly cutting to the side in some unspoken snide remark. "I need to know, B'elanna. Don't make me go into this blind."

She conceded with a timid nod of her head. "Okay, alright," she gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "But you have to promise me you aren't going to hold this against me later. We weren't being inappropriate, just… nosy." She winced. The hole was getting bigger by the second. "Maybe nosy is the wrong word. We were…"

"Gossiping." He finished for her in a sharp tone. "That much I've already gathered. Should I go ahead and assume that I was part of that gossip."

"Yeah, it's a pretty safe bet," she confirmed with a grimace. "We were talking about the shift in the captain's time since Seven came on board and how, after our first encounter with the Borg, the two of you seemed to be…" she glanced around the darkened, tiny room as if the cool metal walls could give her a better word choice than 'in a rough patch.' Rolling her eyes, she settled on, "not as close as before. Not that it really effected your command structure," she quickly added as she held an innocent hand up. "It's just that, after you guys were stuck on that planet because of that virus, everyone always assumed that eventually you and the captain would… would… uh… be… closer… eventually." She could feel herself wince with every word. None of this was going to end well for her.

"I've gotten that impression from more than a few of you over the years, and I know all of you know that the captain and I are friends but…"

"Yeah, I finally the but. I mean," she closed her eyes in horror. This was running so fast downhill she wasn't sure she'd ever climb back up. "After a while, it was pretty clear that you two were just going to be friends, which is understandable. I mean, the captain is the captain, and we all get that she's taken a strong stance against fraternizing like _that _with a member of the crew." She sighed heavily. In for a penny… "But then Seven came on board, and it's like she sees Seven in some completely different way than the rest of us. It's… weird but not like bad weird, just… _different_."

"Has it occurred to you or anyone else on board that the captain sees Seven in terms of the daughter she never had?" His voice was harsher than he intended, but he always felt defensive about his lost chance with the enigmatic auburn haired woman in command of his ship.

"Yeah… at first." She leaned back against a bulkhead, getting comfortable. This was going to take a lot longer than she had hoped it would. "But then the captain risked our entire ship more than once to save Seven from the Collective. There was the time Seven's cortical node went on the fritz and we actively sought out the Borg to fix her. Then there was the time Seven voluntarily returned back to the Collective, and Janeway literally went into the heart of the Borg to save her. When Seven almost didn't dump the Omega particle, Janeway basically gave her a slap on the wrist and then verbally cuddled her because Seven found her god or something. When the Hirogen took over Voyager, you missed out on the over-the-top flirting between Katrine and Mademoiselle de Neuf, but the rest of us couldn't miss it, and you can't tell me that was all the simulation. I mean, come on, Chakotay," she waved her hand erratically in the air, "when was the last time she risked the entire ship for you or anyone else for that matter?"

A sound of frustration rolled from the back of his neck. "She's risked the ship for me, you, and a lot of other people, B'elanna. You know how she feels about leaving a member of her crew behind."

"Yeah, but not like how she's done with Seven." The engineer tried to hide her pity for her friend, but only managed to sound less accusatory than when she'd started her list of observations. "It's _different_, and you know it. There is no one else she would do half the things she does for Seven, and no one else but Seven would get away with half the things Seven gets away with. I'm not saying she's playing favorites, at least not intentionally, but there's a pattern, Chakotay, and not's just with the heroics the captain pulls for Seven. There's the fact she allows Seven into her private times, like her simulations on the holodeck or that she has an open door for Seven regardless of the time. Can you say the same thing?"

He was quiet for a long moment, debating how much he wanted to really think about this can of worms he'd opened. "No," he quietly admitted. "Not in a long time."

"Whether Captain Janeway wants to admit it or not," B'elanna finished, her voice soft to cushion the blow, "she has feelings for Seven, and I and a bunch of other people are starting to have a hard time believing its maternal. The evidence is starting to stack against that as a possibility."

"Even if she does, she'd never act on it." He limped along in the conversation, torn between what to do. On one hand, there was his lost chance. On the other, Kathryn was his friend, and she deserved to be happy. However, he never figured her happiness would include relations with an ex-drone. He certainly never considered a blonde bombshell in a catsuit with the fire and tempter to match the captain's own as his biggest competition. "There are strict rules against a captain fraternizing with a member of their crew."

"Is she, though?" Pushing from the wall, B'elanna gave him a searching look. "Seven may be on board and assisting us as we muddle along toward the Alpha Quadrant, but is she really a member of the crew or just a helpful passenger?"

His voice grew tired as he spoke, unwilling to hear the answer he knew he was about to hear but knowing he needed to hear it anyway. "You make it sound like you support the idea of Captain Janeway and Seven starting a relationship together."

"I support whatever makes things a little happier for her. She's sacrificed a lot, Chakotay. There's no one on this ship that doesn't think she deserves a shot at being happy." She reached out to give his arm a friendly squeeze. "I found Tom, and, even though it's not perfect, it makes things better. People are starting to find each other. We have years ahead of us. It's unfair to think the captain should be alone for all of that time, isn't it?"

He nodded, stepping further to the side to let her out. "Do you think I should talk to her first?"

"I think they have to figure it out on their own. Trust me on this one," B'elanna offered with a sad smile, "no one can force them to admit what they already know. They'll have to do it on their own. I just hope it's not when they're stuck in suits with limited air in the vacuum of space."

"It takes some people more of a push than others," he commented lightly. She nodded. "Thanks, B'elanna."

"If you want to talk when you're done with Seven, Tom is going to hang out with Harry tonight. You're welcome to stop by."

Taking in a deep breath, he let it out slowly. "I just might do that."

* * *

"Right on time," Chakotay commented with a smile as Seven strolled into his office. "Can I offer a drink?"

"No, thank you," she replied stiffly as she stopped in front of his desk. "I wish to speak with you regarding a personal matter."

"Okay." He nodded before taking a sip of coffee. "What can I do for you?"

"I would like your take on…" She paused, re-evaluating why she was there and to whom she was speaking. Was asking the commander directly about Captain Janeway's proclivities a wise choice? Perhaps not. "…the likelihood of individuals to find a romantic counterpart on the ship as we continue on our course toward the Alpha Quadrant. As the first officer, you interact directly with a large portion of the crew, and, unlike the doctor, you understand individuals' relationships on a personal level rather than a logistical one. I've also noticed that, unlike the captain, the crew feels comfortable speaking with you regarding their personal lives, which would give you a better idea of such a likelihood occurring."

He raised an eyebrow. She was at least taking an interesting approach. "What about it, exactly? Are you asking if I see that as likely?"

She tilted her head, relief evident in her eyes. "Yes."

"From day one that I was first officer for Voyager, I've believed that would be the eventual outcome if we remained in the Delta Quadrant long enough. We're a long way from home, Seven. Everyone is lonely, and eventually people will begin to pair off." His mind flashed back to the first time he'd heard those words uttered. It seemed ironic that he was saying them to Seven now. "In fact, it's already started to happen."

"Do you think it likely that _most_ crewmembers will eventually find someone to 'pair off' with?" She raised her chin and looked down at him, perplexed by the laughter she saw shining in his eyes.

"No," he replied lightly. "There are those who have partners waiting for them in the Alpha Quadrant, and still others of the crew don't require romantic companionship. They're perfectly happy with friendships. Now," he decided to throw her a bone, "do I think most of the eligible, interested individuals on the ship will find someone to share their private time with if we stay out here long enough?" He leaned back in his chair, taking another sip of his coffee. "It's likely."

"Do you include yourself in that equation, Commander?" She swallowed, realizing a second too late how the question sounded and not sure how to backpedal out of it.

He shrugged. "Maybe?" Shooting her a mischievous grin, he asked playfully, "Why? Do you have someone in mind?"

"When I first arrived on Voyager, the crew seemed to assume you and Captain Janeway would eventually become romantically involved," she pointed out, tensing at the idea and unsure why it bothered her so much.

"Yes, I'm aware of that particular rumor." This was his moment of truth. Which way he choose to spin this would likely determine what happened between the ex-drone and the captain. The larger question at play, he knew, was how much of a good person he actually was, and the problem was he was too good of a person for his on personal good. "However, it's just that: a rumor. Captain Janeway and I are just friends, and that's really all there'll ever be to it. I think the crew gravitated toward the idea of us as a couple because we form the command team, and, if you look at it from the perspective of Voyager as a family, that would make me and the captain the parents."

"Children like to see their parents happily together?" Seven raised her eyebrows in a touch of amusement. "That is an interesting analogy, Commander."

"And also an accurate one." He tipped his glass toward her, keeping his conversational tone friendly. "What about you, Seven? I know you tried the dating thing before. Are you thinking about trying it again? Maybe with less arm breaking this time?"

"I am," she quirked her head, assessing what her real purpose was for this line of research she was pursuing, "considering possibilities that I hadn't before."

"Ah." He tipped his coffee mug back toward himself and peered inside. For a second or two, they said nothing as both considered their next move. Finally, he pushed away from his desk and went to the wall to recycle his drink. "Is there anything else I can help you with, or were you just gathering up some helpful anecdotal data?"

"No, you've been helpful, Commander. Thank you." She waited for him to give a nod of welcome before turning to leave.

Once the doors had securely shut, Chakotay hit his comm badge. "Chakotay to Torres."

_"Go ahead."_

"That offer still good?"

_"Yeah. Are you going to write me up if I have something good to offer when you get here?"_

"Nope. I'm going to need it. I'll see you in a few."

_"Understood. Torres out."_

* * *

**A/N: I feel we're powering right along, don't you? *takes a sip of her coffee***


	4. Chapter 4

"I feel bad for the guy," Tom said as he slid into his spot in the mess hall. "I mean, if anyone would be perfect for him on this ship, it'd be her."

"Except it's not," Harry shot back from his spot across the table from the pilot. "And you want to make fun of _me_ for going after the wrong girl…"

"Hey, at least Chakotay never tried to climb an unstable scaffold in the hopes of impressing anyone," Paris shot back with a grin.

"No, but he did try to blow Seven out of an airlock, or did you happen to forget that part?" B'elanna licked the back of her spoon and crinkled her nose in disgust. "Didn't Neelix say this was pudding?"

"He said it was pudding _like_." Harry sniffed his spoon and dropped it back onto his plate. "Well, I, for one, haven't forgotten how many times the commander's tried to get rid of Seven."

"To be fair, she was a drone trying to force us back into Borg space to be assimilated at the time," the sandy haired man countered, waving his spoon in the air for emphasis. "I mean, it's a solid argument to say he was only trying to keep the ship safe."

"Oh yeah, what about _after_ Seven was separated from the Collective?" Picking up his fork, Kim cautiously poked at the meat looking thing on his plate, oddly relieved to find it didn't move or make some kind of sound.

"Harry, she did try to get us assimilated at least three times after she was yanked from the Collective. Tom's got a point." B'elanna shrugged. "Chakotay's motivations could've been completely pure. It's his job, after all, to protect the ship."

"Of course," Tom added while he sawed away at his piece of meat, "that time he came close to throttling Seven after she bested him during Neelix's last party because she won that dinner with the captain probably wasn't as pure of a motive."

"Oh yeah," the ensign said with a nod and a shrug. "I almost forgot about that."

B'elanna sniffed disinterestedly. "It's like watching one of Tom's soap operas. Will they? Won't they? Who is going to beat up who over the damsel who isn't in distress? Tune in and find out on the next episode of 'As the Spaceship Warps."

"Sounds like an interesting holoprogram!" Neelix's voice caused the three officers to jump in their seats. "What's it about?"

"It's uh… not." Tom gave everyone a sheepish look. "B'elanna was just making fun of something Harry and I've been watching."

"On that 'TV' thing you have in your quarters?" The Talaxian leaned back on his heels and rested his hands on his stomach. "I've never understood your interest in that thing. Where's the entertainment?"

"You'd be surprised how entertaining some of the things we watch on this ship can be, Neelix," Paris replied with a wink at his compatriots. "Anyway, what brings you over?"

"I thought I'd come by and see how everyone is liking the Tuntsian Pudding." The chef gave a huge grin. "It was one of my favorites growing up as a boy."

"It's uh…. Interesting." Harry picked his spoon up again and gave the worst smile of his life as he forced some of the pudding into his mouth. "Mmmm."

"I'm glad you like it." Wiggling his fingers in thought, Neelix took in a hesitant breath. "Also, I was wondering if maybe one of you could help me with a little problem?"

B'elanna rolled her eyes. "You're not attempting to make cheese again, are you?"

"Well, no, nothing like that exactly." The short being glanced nervously around the officers' table. "It would seem that I've run out of coffee rations for the week for…"

"No." Tom quickly cut in, pushing back from the table, and holding both hands up in the air. "There is NO WAY I'm giving up my allotment of credits for her coffee addiction, Neelix. I need those credits. B'elanna and I have a date in two days."

"Don't look at me." The engineer in question shrugged. "I ran out for the week yesterday. What?" She look over to find the two men eyeing her curiously. "I had a banana pancake need."

Harry sternly shook his head in the negative. "You can't have mine, either. I'm saving up for a new clarinet."

"She can drink the stuff you make just like the rest of us who are in a pinch," Paris said, crossing his arms rebelliously. "She can suffer with the rest of us."

"Now, lieutenant," Neelix intoned admonishment, "do you really think it's wise for her to go without coffee for three days in a row? Do you remember the last time that happened?" Everyone at the table visibly winced.

"Look, I get it. _Really_, but Tom's right. She made the rules. She'll just have to follow them unless you can get some schmuck to give up their credits." B'elanna shrugged. "Or we can take up a collection. If everyone on the crew donated something, it might tide her over."

"That's probably not the greatest idea. We did that once way back in the first or second year. I can't remember which." Harry groaned as he recalled his personal month from hell. "What I _do_ remember is that the senior staff lost holodeck privileges for a month."

"Yeah, let's not do that again." Tom glanced around the room, looking for an easy mark to help with the situation. His eyes fell upon Chakotay, who had rolled in for an early lunch. "I bet Chakotay would give up a few credits for the Captain."

"I bet he won't," B'elanna countered, thinking of how rough her friend had been the night before. "But you know who would?" All expectant eyes turned to her in question. "Seven."

"Oh, you know," Neelix's eyes light up, "I bet she would. Would you all mind watching the kitchen while I go talk to Seven?"

"Nope, go right on ahead," Harry said, standing to walk over to the counter and peer in, glancing over a pot with a lid close to falling off. "What's in there?"

"Oh, that's the rest of the protein. Just smack it down with the wooden spoon there if it starts to crawl out again." Leaning in, the Talaxian offered confidentially, "Rigilian meat has a habit of trying to escape after it's been sitting for a while, you now."

"Okay, I'm eating bread until after our date," Tom declared as he pushed back from the table with disgust, ignoring his girlfriend's chuckles.

* * *

"Neelix." It was neither a question nor an invitation of welcome. In fact, it was just the opposite. Seven had no time to deal with the Talaxian. Several reports were due to the captain by the end of her duty shift, and, speaking of the captain, Seven was still trying to decide her next course of action regarding her growing list of questions about the older woman's behavior.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Seven. I realize you must be busy," Neelix stammered, shifting his weight from foot to foot, "but I was wondering if you could assist me with something."

Not bothering to look up from her work, she asked crossly, "What is it?"

"Well, you see, a situation has come up regarding the captain, and…"

Her full, piercing attention was abruptly on him, causing him to sputter on his words. "Is the captain hurt?"

"No," he said as he quickly shook his head and held his hands up in defense. "She's fine. She's just… she's just out of coffee."

Seven straightened her posture, realizing she'd fallen into a stance that would allow her to quickly leave if need be. "Coffee?" She didn't bother to let her annoyance stay off of her features. "And this is an emergency?"

"Well, I… I never actually _said_ it was an emergency." He clasped his hands in front of him for a moment, looking for the right way to go about this conversation that absolutely had to happen. "I mean, I suppose I could argue that it _might_ be an emergency. I mean, the captain _is_ out of coffee, and we all know how unfortunate that would be for the entire crew if she continued to be out of coffee. As the morale officer, it's my job to make sure everyone is as happy as possible, and I can say with certainty that no one is going to be happy if the captain is unhappy."

"Or experiencing caffeine withdrawal," she commented dryly. "Why me?"

"Honestly," he let his hands fall back to his sides, drawing his face down into a look of defeat. "No one else will do it this week."

"And you assume I have credits I would be willing to supply to allow the captain to have her coffee for the remainder of the week?" The implant above her eye rose a few millimeters.

"If I had the rations, I'd do it myself, but I'm already out for the week." He held his hands up in a plea for help. "Will you at least consider it? It would really be a huge help to the entire ship."

"I'll think about it," she replied, turning back to her station.

Realizing that would be the best he would get, he turned and left feeling defeated, slightly panicked, and wondering if it was too late to board his ship and make a go at it alone again.

* * *

Janeway sighed irritably as she shifted around on her ready room's sofa. Lunch had been less than fulfilling. The so-called pudding tasted like something out of Voyager's gel packs, the meat started to move on her plate of its own accord, and, to top it all off, she was out of rations for coffee.

The idea of being without for the next three days was distracting her to no end. She was aware she had an addiction, but she hadn't realized it was that bad. Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe she should think of detoxing for a bit. Maybe the next three days were a blessing in disguise?

Maybe a wormhole would open up right in front of them and drop them off directly on Earth's doorstep within the next three hours.

She sighed, raking a hand through her hair. Who was she kidding? It was going to be a rocky next few days. What she needed to do was distract herself, and what better way than by working? Of course, it'd be easier if she were working on solving a problem as opposed to going over personnel reports.

These were about as engaging as one of the doctor's slide shows.

Tossing the PADD on the table, she stood up to pace. Maybe drinking the concoction Neelix created to substitute for coffee wouldn't be so bad? It's lumpy, a little on the cold side, and tastes a little like tar, but at least it's something _close_ to coffee. What could be harm? The doctor could repair any damage the drink did to her digestive tract.

Most likely.

Probably.

She'd chance it.

Just as she started for the door, someone rang her chime. Straightening her tunic and settling back onto the sofa, she called out a gruff "come" while she attempted to stop bouncing from caffeine withdrawal.

Seven of Nine, in all her near six feet tall, silver clad amazingness strolled in carrying a carafe of coffee and a mug. "Captain, I understand you require coffee for the week," she coolly stated, humor dancing in her eyes as she watched the other woman's gaze follow the container in her hand. "I will happily supply you from my cache of rations _if_ you will do something for me in return."

"Name it." The statement was out of her mouth before Janeway knew it, and, what's worse, she wasn't sure if I was because she wanted the coffee that badly or because she had the terrible habit of folding whenever Seven asked for something.

"I'd like to have dinner with you tomorrow night." The blonde set the mug and carafe on the coffee table before the captain. "Holodeck 2, an hour after your duty shift ends?"

"Dinner? Seven we have dinner together all the time." Janeway was already reaching for the coffee, looking for all the world as if liquid gold pressed latinum were flowing in her cup.

"True. However, for this instance, I require you to wear something other than your uniform." The ex-Borg waited for a response and was disappointed when no reaction occurred at all.

Instead, the captain slowly leaned back against the sofa, deeply inhaling the scent of the coffee, before taking a sip. "Alright," she happily replied. "What do you want me to wear?"

The blonde hadn't been prepared for this. She'd expected more resistance. "Something… emerald green."

The captain's eyebrows rose in surprise. "That's a very definitive color you have in mind. Any particular reason?"

"I feel it flatters your complexion and hair color," Seven flatly replied.

That caused the reaction she'd expected to receive the moment before. "Oh, well," Janeway stammered, moving quickly to hold her coffee between both hands. "Thank you, Seven. I hadn't realized you'd considered complimentary colors for individuals on the ship."

"I have not," the younger woman calmly stated. "I have noted them on you because it is rare to see you in anything but Command Red, which, although it is both my favorite color and one that flatters you, is something I wonder if you get tired of wearing. I'd like to afford you the opportunity to do something different."

"I see." Despite herself, Janeway could feel a smirk playing on the edges of her mouth. In any other circumstance, this would be flirting. Of course, it couldn't be flirting. She was the captain. Seven was a member of her crew, her student, and practically her daughter. Well, maybe not the last.

She found her eye wandering over the silvered curves of the catsuit in front of her.

Definitely not the last.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she swallowed the lump she found in her throat. "Alright, it's a date." Internally, she winced. That had been a poor choice of words. "I'll see tomorrow after our shift."

Tilting her head in thanks, Seven gave just the barest hint of a smile. "I look forward to it, Captain."

Janeway watched her leave, admonishing herself for her eyes being glued to the younger woman's swaying backside. Were her hips swaying more than usual? No? Yes?

Why would she even notice?

Groaning at herself, Janeway picked the PADD back up and attempted the personnel reports, now in need of a distraction from something other than her lack of coffee.

* * *

**A/N: Do you feel that? That's the scent of a J/7 awkward date ahead!**


	5. Chapter 5

It was a simple enough shirt. The silky material wrapped around her body, stopping at her side where, instead of a clip, which was the intention, she'd placed her comm badge. The dark, emerald green shimmered in the low light of her quarters, setting off her fair complexion and auburn hair, and the way the garment wrapped around her torso had the added effect of accentuating her breasts.

She stared down at the small amount of cleavage and wondered if perhaps she should find something different to wear. Thinking on it, the way the shirt hugged her body was probably less appropriate than she'd like to admit, and, although she was wearing a pair of dark wash blue jeans – something Tom Paris had brought back into fashion on board her ship – and her Starfleet issue boots, she was forced to admit to herself that, for all intents and purposes, she looked like she was actually going on a date as opposed to meeting a member of her crew for dinner.

This was why she normally wore her uniform. It helped maintain boundaries.

A quick glance at the time told her she didn't have any left to reconsider her wardrobe choice. For better or worse, she was going to have to go in what she had on and hope it didn't send some sort of weird signal.

The last thing she needed was a confused Borg.

Pulling on an actual watch, something she'd brought with her on her trip because she'd originally intended to give it to her sister upon her return, she turned with a determined air toward her door. The watch told her she had 15 minutes. There was still time to change her mind about her shirt if she hurried.

She really didn't want to.

Instead, she added a pair of emerald earrings to match the shirt and a matching ring to the middle finger of her right hand. Taking in a breath of preparation, she walked purposefully out of her quarters and hoped with every fiber of her being that she didn't run into anyone on her way to the holodeck.

Naturally, her hopes were dashed almost the instant she started toward the turbolifts.

"Captain?" The doctor's voice made her want to run for the nearest Jeffries tube entrance. She wasn't sure what bothered her more: the holographic doctor who was taking time away from her she could be using to get to dinner with Seven or the fact she felt like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

It was ridiculous. She had no reason to feel this jumpy.

"Doctor?" She stopped and forced herself to greet him. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, I was hoping I could discuss next week's physicals with you tonight." He glanced down at her attire and then back to her eyes. "But I can see you already have plans."

"Dinner," she confirmed a touch more tersely than intended. At the question she knew was coming, she added regretfully, "with Seven." All of her instincts told her that telling him this information was a terrible idea.

"Oh?" He seemed less than surprised by that revelation. "Well, when you see her tonight, perhaps you could talk to her about the issue she's been having lately."

"Regarding the conversation she overhead between Lt. Torres and Ensign Drayer? I thought that had all been resolved?" She felt cross. Seven had told her should would apologize and stop antagonizing the half-Klingon, and, to her knowledge, Janeway hadn't heard any more complaints about verbal altercations in Engineering since that point. Maybe she'd missed a memo?

"No, not about that. Well," he paused in apparent thought, though the captain had come to recognize it as his way of adding unwelcome drama to a conversation. "maybe not directly about that."

"Then what?" She could feel the minutes ticking away. She was going to be late, and then she was going to make him wish she wasn't.

"I believe Seven may have a crush on someone aboard." He shrugged. "But I can't be certain. You know how perplexing she can be when she's trying to understand some new facet of humanity. She, like someone else I could name," he gave the captain a hard look, "has the bad habit of not talking when she should when things bother her." At the warning he saw coming, he held a hand up. "But that's neither here nor there. My point is she came to me a few days ago to discuss the conversation she overheard, and, after considering it, I believe she's trying to determine if the person she has feelings for have them for her in return."

Janeway could feel her stomach sinking. This was bad. This was _very_ bad. "What, exactly, did she tell you?"

"Not much. She said she overhead two crewmembers talking about another person on board who tends to spend all their free time with her, that she'd spoken to the person in question who had assured her it was because they were friends, and that she'd gone back to one of the original crewmembers to apologize for being antagonistic. Apparently, whoever she spoke with implied that the person giving their time to Seven might have more than feelings of friendship for her, and, you know how our resident Borg is," he shrugged. "She's been thinking about it ever since."

"Of course she has." Janeway could feel actual pain settling across her body and a headache beginning to form. "Did she indicate who the person in question was?"

"No, although she did state it was a human female, which doesn't really narrow the pool much." He scrunched his face in thought. "Of course, I suppose I could look into what human females she spends the most time with, and, from there, I could…"

"That won't be necessary, Doctor." Janeway needed to nip that right in the bud. "I'll talk to her about it." She really didn't want to. "Maybe I can help her figure whatever it is out." She was pretty sure Seven have figured out enough already to be dangerous. "I'll let you know if I need any help." She never wanted him to broach this subject with Seven ever again.

"Thank you, Captain." He gave her a genial smile. "Well, enjoy your dinner, and please give my regards to Seven for me."

"Of course," she replied with a nod before turning to make a beeline for the turbolifts. According to her watch, she had about five minutes. She could just make it.

* * *

Much to Janeway's relief, she didn't find herself in some sort of romantic setting in Paris when she walked onto the holodeck. Instead, she found herself in a house that reminded her very much of her home in Indiana. She'd been raised traditionalist, so the not-so-modern comforts of a gas stove and drip coffee pot working away in the kitchen didn't seem strange in the slightest to her.

In fact, it made her feel much more at ease until she turned from the warmth of the kitchen to find Seven wearing a white Oxford, light washed jeans, no shoes, and a sloppy ponytail. She stared a few seconds too long. "I wasn't sure what to wear. Will this do," she managed to ask, looking down at herself and torn between feeling over dressed and exposed all at the same time.

"Yes." A definite smirk on her face, Seven brushed past the captain to attend to whatever was in the oven. "Neelix allowed me to take the portions of meat allotted to us for tonight's meal and cook it myself." She bent at the waist to reach into the oven and rotate the covered pan.

Janeway's attention was everywhere; on the wonderful smell permeating the room, on the coffee brewing nearby, and on the way those jeans hugged Seven's backside.

Again with Sevens backside?

She closed her eyes and attempted to focus. "It smells wonderful, Seven. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Could you attend to the salad? The ingredients are in the refrigerator, and there is a bowl and cutting board under the island." She stood, turning to face the older woman, wisps of blonde hair flowing freely about her face. "I would like to finish dessert."

"I'm happy to help." Janeway turned toward the fridge, taking in deep breaths and trying to ignore the picture of domesticity being created. They weren't a couple. This wasn't a date. She was the captain. Seven was a member of crew. This couldn't happen. "Actually, a salad is about all I can make. I never mastered the ability to cook."

"I recall." From the other side of the island, the younger woman mixed something dark brown in a bowl as she spoke nonchalantly. "You've burned three pot roasts, two grilled cheese sandwiches, and a baked potato since I've been on board."

"And I once almost set my childhood home's kitchen on fire when my mother tried to get me to learn to cook bacon on the stovetop," Janeway finished with a grin, the memory now a faded story of better times. "As a child, I never understood the need to know how to cook. We had replicators for that."

The blonde glanced up from her work. "And when there are none available?"

"That," Janeway said, accenting her point by motioning at the other woman with knife, "was exactly my parents' point." She returned to cutting up what looked to be a reasonable replacement for carrots. "Seven, when did you learn how to cook?"

"The doctor thought that, if I had an appreciation for the culinary arts, I might be more inclined to actually eat." Pulling out two small, ceramic dishes, Seven began to run the bottom and sides with butter and then a small coating of flower. "Neelix taught me basic skills, but I quickly learned his skills left much to be desired."

Janeway chuckled. "Sometimes…" she muttered under her breath.

"So," the blonde continued on, ignoring the comment for now, "I took it upon myself to learn better techniques in an attempt to sharpen a skill I saw value in having." She carefully poured the dark brown mixture evenly into the two dishes and pulled out a small baking sheet. "I've learned since coming on board the importance of contingency plans."

"Well, they do come in handy," the captain agreed while finishing up the salad. "What are you making?"

"A chocolate soufflé." Seven set the dishes in the baking sheet, placed the sheet in the oven after removing the covered pan, and poured water into the bottom of the sheet. "They should be done by the time we finish dinner."

"And what's for dinner?" Intrigued by this newly discovered skill of the young woman's, she found she wanted to know everything Seven had learned about cooking despite the fact she, herself, hated to cook. Coming from Seven, the knowledge didn't seem so boring.

"What will adequately pass as roasted chicken, wrapped in something approximating bacon with a side salad and something similar to grilled asparagus." As she spoke, Seven began to plate their food, careful to place everything just so before bringing it over to the kitchen's island and motioning for the captain to have a seat on one of the stools opposite her. "Also," she set the plates down and reached under the island to open a door. Much to the older woman's surprise, she found a wine chiller hidden there instead of more storage space. "Lt. Paris …acquired a few bottles of wine from our last shore leave, and I was able to obtain a bottle for tonight. I believe it will pair well."

"Acquired?" Janeway raised an eyebrow, though her amusement belayed any threat of authoritative action. "I thought you'd sworn off alcohol?"

"I have. However, I've determined one glass will not hurt me, and I don't intend to have more than that." She pulled out a corkscrew and effortlessly opened the bottle with a loud pop. "Do you?"

"No, not tonight." The captain's eyes took in the room as she waited for Seven to pour the wine and take a seat.

The kitchen was large, warm, and inviting. The cabinets were a deep cherry to match the flooring, the countertops a deep marbled green. Accents of gold marked door handles and utensil holders, and, although it was technically evening on the ship, Seven had programmed it to be a bright, sunny spring day. Light flooded in from tall windows outlining two of the walls, and the Tuscan inspired paint in the remainder of the room brought everything together to make the simulation feel comfortable.

"Seven, did you find this house somewhere in the logs, or is this a creation of your own?" She turned away from the windows and the view of the gardens they provided to look behind her at the open architecture living room and quiet, welcoming study that shared the other two walls of the kitchen.

"I researched traditionalist homes from Earth, and, based upon that, I created this house." Seven settled upon her stool, back to the windows, which caused an oddly ethereal glow around her body. "I thought perhaps you would appreciate something like this. You've mentioned before that you come from such a home and how much you miss it," she gave the other woman a smirk, adding teasingly, "even if it doesn't have replicators."

Janeway chuckled. "The lack of replicators grows on you after a while; that's what my mother has always said, anyway," she replied with a smile before turning her full attention back to the other woman. "Everything is lovely. Thank you for this, Seven."

"It's my pleasure, Captain." The title made Janeway internally cringe. In this setting, it seemed wrong for it to be there, but the necessity of it remaining was evident. Already she felt way too content here. Her guard was falling. She could feel it.

Seven's voice threw her from her thoughts. "May I ask you a question?" She nearly choked on the bite of meat she'd taken but just managed to not show it as she nodded. "Did your family ever call you by a nickname?"

What? Were Borg mind readers now?

"Why do you ask?" Deflection was good. It normally kept her out of trouble where Seven was concerned.

"Arguably, individuals call me by such. Seven is not my full designation nor my given name. Therefore, it is a nickname. I've heard Lt. Paris refer to Ensign Kim as 'little buddy," the younger woman paused, taking a sip of her wine while her eyes danced with the humor she understood in the term, and she watched the captain try not to chuckle, "and sometimes Lt. Torres calls Commander Chakotay 'George,' which I still don't entirely understand."

"I believe Lt. Torres is referring to the commander's knack for clumsiness at inopportune times." Humored, Janeway smiled at a series of memories she had of her first officer fumbling things when he thought no one noticed. "It's an affectionate nickname but not entirely respectful, I'm afraid."

"As only the commander calls you by your first name on the ship, I've heard of only one nickname you might have been given, but I've often wondered if there might be others." The blonde carefully cut into her meal, running a precise line along an edge to whittle down the whole toward something manageable. "I have no reason other than being curious, a human trait that seems to be exerting itself with more frequency these days."

"I can tell that's annoying you." With a chuckle, Janeway took a bite of salad as she considered how open she wanted to be with the other woman. What harm could there be in sharing this intimate detail of her life, and how intimate was it really? It was both a blessing and a curse that she didn't have time to run a risk analysis on this conversation.

After a quick sip of wine, she decided to throw a small amount of caution to the wind. "Mark called me Kath," she answered in a sad tone. "My little sister, Phoebe, has always called me Katie, probably because she knows it drives me up the wall." She shook her head, remembering her artsy, unorganized sister with warmth. "My friends at home often call me Kathy, though a few from my Academy days call me Kate." Her face fell just a touch, voice going soft with emotion as she finished her list. "My father called me Goldenbird."

It had gotten too personal. With a shake of her head, she reached for her wine and took another sip to wash the memories away. "I've had a few nicknames in my day."

Seven watched her carefully, taking in her body language with each nickname listed. She made a mental note to research more on the captain's father. "Which nickname do you most prefer?"

"Oh, I don't know, Seven," the older woman replied with a sigh. "I don't suppose it matters. Who would use it now?" She glanced down at her drink and glared at it. How was it that, with less than a fourth of the glass consumed, she was already this bluntly honest? Time to lay off. "As far as I'm concerned, I suppose my first name is 'Captain' until such time as I get us home."

"Close but not quite a remake of the name Kathryn," the blonde observed, and Janeway felt herself shudder just a touch at hearing her first name roll off Seven's tongue. "Although I must admit that 'Captain Kathryn Janeway' has a pleasing ring to the ear." Seven looked up through her lashes at the other woman, giving that tiny smile reserved, it would seem, for the captain alone. "Perhaps you were fated to become a captain?"

"Don't tell my mother that," Janeway tried to redirect the conversation. She felt like she was being moving expertly into a trap. She could see it coming, and she wasn't sure how she was going to dodge it. "Mom never wanted me to join Starfleet, but it's all I ever wanted to do. My head was always metaphorically in the stars."

"I've come to believe there are some who have a calling for what they do. I feel it's clear that what you do is your calling." Seven took another bite of her meal, savoring the flavor and pleased with how it had come together. "How is your meal, Captain?"

Janeway was still trying to recover from what she'd just heard when Seven called to her rank again to grab her attention. "I'm sorry, Seven. It's wonderful. You've done an outstanding job. Perhaps you should help Neelix in the Mess Hall from time to time? I'm sure people would appreciate the change."

"I may consider it." Seven took a sip of wine, eyes watching the other woman intently. "Commander Chakotay occasionally calls you Kathy."

Of course the blonde wasn't going to let it go. Why would she? "He does, but, as you pointed out, he's the only one with permission to call me by my first name at all."

The blonde cocked her head to the side, asking in an innocent tone, "Why?"

There it was, and Janeway had fallen right into it. "Well, Seven, it would be inappropriate for someone under my command to address me informally."

"When on duty, of course, but what of off duty time?" The ex-drone shifted on her stool, regarding the auburn haired woman with a curious eye. "Are there not others you've developed friendships with outside of duty hours whom you'd prefer use your first name, or a version thereof?"

"To be fair, Tuvok does occasionally use my first name, but it's very rare." Not that the point was helping her case. She was stalling for time, which was, admittedly, wasted effort. She was going to cave. She always caved to Seven.

The timer sounded, and Seven moved to pull the desserts from the oven. "Would you like a cup of coffee with your soufflé, Captain?" She added extra inflection to end of her sentence, and Janeway winced internally again.

With a sigh, she gave up the fight. She wasn't even sure she'd been putting up much of a battle. "You know, Seven, perhaps, when we're alone, you could call me by my first name?" There. It's done. She couldn't take back if she tried.

"As you wish," the blonde replied dryly, carefully placing the dessert and a cup of coffee down in front of the older woman after removing the used dishes, "Kathryn." She took her seat, reaching for her coffee and taking a sip as she observed the other woman over the rim of her cup.

Janeway shifted, suddenly hotter than she ought to be and wondering how she'd gotten herself into this mess. In truth, she knew. She'd allowed it. She even knew why she allowed, and it was her ardent hope Seven hadn't gotten that far in her analysis of the situation.

However, based upon the sparkle of mirth and mischief in the blonde's eyes, it was a safe bet to say Kathryn's current most ardent hope was already bashed to bits.

There was no way to deny it now. They were playing a game of Kath and mouse.

* * *

**A/N: Well? What do you think?!**


	6. Chapter 6

"Seven, a moment of your time?" Tuvok walked into the cargo bay, glancing around to ensure they were alone.

"Of course, Commander." The blonde stepped away from the console she was working at to give him her full attention.

"It is not my habit to involve myself with the personal affairs of my fellow crewmates. However, I feel compelled to do so based on observations I've made today."

She tilted her head in question. "Explain."

"It was brought to my attention by the doctor after our morning staff meeting that you and Captain Janeway had dinner together last night." He waited for a confirmation. At her nod, he continued. "Throughout today, the captain has been more distracted than is customary. At lunch time, I decided to approach her regarding her distraction as I feared it might affect the ship's safety to have its captain so unfocused."

He had her rapt attention. "When I attempted to broach the subject with the captain regarding her preoccupation, she told me something had occurred last night at dinner which was weighing upon her mind. Although she did not elaborate further, I can only extrapolate that she is referring to something that must have transpired between the two of you."

"We merely had dinner, Commander. It is a common occurrence for us." She repositioned her stance, squaring her shoulders and tilting her head in a slightly defiant fashion. "I fail to see how that would affect the captain today."

"Upon checking the logs to ensure the doctor was indeed correct in his information," the Vulcan countered, "I learned you and the captain had dinner on the holodeck as opposed to your custom of eating in her quarters."

"Correct. As the captain calls it, it was a 'change of scenery," she replied smoothly, though her jaw hardened a touch. She couldn't be sure where this was headed, but she found herself feeling defensive despite that fact.

"I see." His eyebrows rose in thought. "Seven, I cannot, nor will I attempt, to assume to know what is transpiring between you and Captain Janeway outside of duty hours and my presence. As I'm sure you're no doubt aware, there are several rumors being passed among those of the crew regarding the both of you. For my part, I can only base my thoughts upon the evidence provided to me."

He matched her stance, leveling her with a piercing gaze. "That said, _if_ there were anything beyond the obvious happening, I would ask that you at least _try_ to prevent it from effecting the commanding officer of this ship."

"As _you_ are no doubt aware, Commander, I have no control over the thoughts and feelings of others." Seven lowered her chin, regarding him with respect as she continued. "However, _if_ something were transpiring, I assure you I would not intentionally cause distraction or harm to the command structure. I understand the importance of stability for a ship."

He nodded. "Nonetheless, instability happens when the mind is at odds with the needs of the self. Must I remind you of how chaotic emotions can be?"

"No, Commander, I am well aware of the hazards of human emotions." She took in a deep breath. "I am unsure, however, of what to do about it." She grunted, adding almost too late, "In the hypothetical, of course."

"Of course," he blandly intoned, though his eyebrow rose once again. "May I make a suggestion… in the hypothetical?" At her nod, he continued. "I have learned through the many years I have known Captain Janeway that she is almost incapable of putting something aside if it intrigues her. Things and people which stimulate her mind are what I can only call her personal weak spot. I've observed her many times spend countless hours considering a situation to the point of ignoring her normal duties if she finds it a puzzle or situation truly worthy of her concentration." He paused to allow that observation to ruminate for a moment. "_If_, in the hypothetical, there were something happening there and _if_ you were open to preventing further distraction, my suggestion would be for you two to come to an agreement upon it sooner rather than later. The longer she considers a subject, the more distracted she is likely to become."

"I believe I understand." Seven stepped back to her console, pushing a few buttons to lock it. "I will …consider your advice."

"That is all I ask." He turned toward the door. "Have a good evening, Seven."

* * *

It had been 12 hours since Kathryn had found herself alone with Seven. In that time, her mind was stuck on the interactions at dinner. There was nothing inappropriate, really. They'd had a lovely dinner, an amazing dessert, and their usual engaging conversation.

The problem wasn't the dinner. The problem was everything behind the dinner: the casual clothes, the use of her first name, how she found herself really wanting to lean in and brush that one errant bit of hair from Seven's face.

She groaned, closing the book she'd been trying to read. She just couldn't focus. Even Tuvok had noticed it and mentioned something, which meant her distraction was far worse than she thought. What she really needed to do was evaluate her situation and make a decision. The problem was the decision she knew she should make and the one she wanted to make were two very different things, and, not for the first time in something regarding the frustrating blonde, the captain was trying to avoid making a decision at all.

Maybe she could just avoid Seven for the next 40 years?

Her door chimed, and, given the time of night, it could only be one person. She sighed, glancing down at her bare feet and partial uniform. At least she was wearing pants and a grey undershirt. It could be worse. She could already be in her nightgown.

The chime sounded again, and she gave in. "Come."

She didn't bother to look surprised to see Seven stroll in. "Am I disturbing you?"

No more than you have been all day, Kathryn thought with a mental eye roll. "Not at all. Please," she motioned to the other side of the sofa, "have a seat."

"I would prefer to stand," the younger woman dryly stated.

Kathryn briefly thought she would have to break Seven of that habit or they'd never get around to anything else, which quickly led to her mentally kicking herself. "Of course you would. So," she set her book on the table beside her, "what's on your mind tonight, Seven?"

"You."

The older woman blinked. She hadn't really considered the ex-drone would be so forward or that blunt. Of course, she should have known better. "What about me?"

"I understand you've been distracted since our dinner. I wanted to make sure I had not done something inappropriate to cause that distraction."

Oh, well, that was a complicated answer. On one hand, nothing had happened. On the other hand, they played a game of verbal chase all night. Really, it was a tossup, but, if Seven was in the wrong, so was Kathryn. "No, Seven, you didn't do anything wrong." Mostly.

"I'm glad to hear that, Kathryn." Janeway took in a sharp breath. She wasn't sure she was ever going to become accustomed to that.

She blinked away the shudder threatening to run through her body. "Was that all you had on your mind?"

"Perhaps." Seven moved to sit on the coffee table in front of her, forcing them to be eye level with each other. "It will depend upon your next answer."

The captain could feel the flames of the fire licking up around them. Was it going to better to stay in the pan or jump? That's the question. "To what question, Seven?"

Her blue eyes challenged the older woman. "Is friendship the only reason you enjoy my company?"

There was nowhere for either of them to go. There were ways to avoid an answer, but Seven had given Kathryn a straight line to end her day's worth of internal turmoil. What's more, she had promised she would never lie to Seven. If she avoided the question for long enough, she'd end up breaking that promise, and that's something she refused to do.

Meeting Seven's eyes, she answered quietly, "No, Seven, that's not the only reason."

The blonde stood her ground, unwilling to break eye contact and risk losing the moment. "Tell me."

"I will, but only if you answer something for me first." She waited for an agreement, and, when she received one, she forced herself to ask the question weighing heavily on her mind. "Is friendship the only reason you want to spend time with me?"

"No." The answer lacked any hesitation. "I find your company challenging in an exhilarating way. When I'm near you, I find I want nothing more than to remain near you, yet I find your presence distracts me when you're near, and I'm regretful when I know you've recently passed through a place I find myself to be because I've missed you there. I may be relatively new to the concept of human emotions, but I am not unaware of what keeps drawing me to your presence."

Kathryn slowly licked her dry lips, asking in a hoarse voice, "And what would that be?"

The blonde regarded her with a touch of incredulousness. "I'm attracted to you, Kathryn. I believe I have been for quite some time."

The older woman forgot to breathe. Seven was attracted to her. The words were out there. Now she had to keep her end of the bargain, and nothing _at all_ was ever going to be the same again. "I feel the same way."

There it was. The cards were all laid out. What happened next was up to fate.

The former Borg nodded, accepting the information calmly. "Do you wish to act upon these feelings?"

Kathryn blinked. She'd expected Seven to demand they step into a romantic relationship not ask what she wanted to do. "Yes and no."

"A most confusing answer," the younger woman observed wryly.

"For both of us, I'm afraid." Kathryn leaned back in her place on the sofa, keenly aware of her knees brushing against Seven's legs. "On one hand, I'm your captain. How can I maintain command of you if we're involved romantically? It would be almost impossible for me to have any objectivity at all. On the other hands," she made a vague motion with her hand, "it's a valid argument to say I've already lost objectivity when it comes to you."

"If you're worried I wouldn't follow your command if we were romantically involved, you needn't be. I am capable of being professional when duty demands it." Reaching forward, the young woman took the hand still gesturing in the air. "I would like to pursue this option, but I will understand if you do not."

For a long moment, Kathryn stared at the woman before her. So many options lay before her. The question was which one was really the best? It was impossible to tell. What she did know was Mark had moved on, and they were still a long way from home.

Perhaps it was time to let someone in?

Seven was practically there already.

Steeling her reserve, Kathryn shifted, moving forward until she sat upon the edge of the sofa. Pulling the hand in hers toward her, she leaned in to place a gentle kiss on Seven's surprised lips.

Much to her delight and terror, Seven swiftly kissed her back.

They pulled away a quick moment later, both flushed and breathing just a touch harder. "This isn't going to be easy, Seven."

"I've learned nothing regarding the two of us is ever easy, Kathryn."

The older woman chuckled. "Fair enough." She reached forward to run her fingers through the side of the blonde hair that had been haunting her dreams for months. "Are you sure you're ready to be the captain's girlfriend?"

"No," the younger woman replied with a smirk. "But I am more than ready to be Kathryn's partner."

Pulling back to get a better look at Seven, Janeway gave her an approving look. "I hope I'm ready to be yours."

"If you're not, then we've been unintentionally courting each other the entirely wrong way for all of these months," the blonde retorted and then winked.

The other woman snickered. "I'm so glad you're developing your sense of humor."

"I like to hear you laugh," Seven replied by way of explanation. "Kathryn," the hesitation pulled the other woman from her reverie. "Would it be acceptable for me to kiss you again?"

"So long as we're alone and off duty, you may kiss me whenever you please." Leaning in, the captain eagerly offered her lips up.

Her offer was quickly taken.

As she felt herself being pushed back against the sofa, she had the fleeting thought to check to see who had won the pool on how long it would take for this to happen and confiscate the pot. After all the work that went into this, she felt she and Seven were the most deserving of that particular betting pool.

After all, they were taking the largest gamble.

* * *

**A/N: Fluffy epilogue, anyone?**


	7. Epilogue

"You know," B'elanna said around a mouthful of something she probably didn't want to identify, "you have to admit the captain and Seven _do_ make a cute couple."

"Yeah, a cute couple of thieves," Tom grumbled as he pushed around the green protein item on his plate. "I can't believe the captain took the entire pot."

"I can't believe you didn't realize Phoebe J. was the captain's sister's name. I mean, come on," Harry said, trying to suppress a chuckle, "there's not a single Phoebe on board this ship."

"It's cheating to enter the pot if you already know the outcome. We're Starfleet officers," the pilot bemoaned as he took a stab at his green food item, "we're _supposed_ to have integrity."

"Says the man who was thrown into jail for doing everything anti-integrity in the book," B'elanna teased. "Look, at least she didn't write you up for illegally gambling."

Tom threw his hand out in exasperation. "She didn't even give me my cut!"

"Because _then_ I would have had to write you up, Mr. Paris." The amusement in Janeway's voice killed the threat behind her words. "You're lucky I didn't suspend your holodeck privileges and make you work more rotations in Sickbay for placing bets on my personal affairs."

"Captain," he winced, glancing to his comrades for help only to find they were steadfastly ignoring his gaze, "about that… I'm sorry?"

"I feel your apology is less than genuine, Lieutenant." Seven stepped beside the captain, two plates in her hands. "Of course," she glanced down at the food, "I find many things in the Mess Hall to be less than genuine today." With a disgusted sniff, she looked up to the woman beside her. "What is this?"

"I'm not sure I want to know," Janeway answered, almost by reflex. "Maybe we should have opted for coffee?"

"I think not. You've already consumed four cups of which I know of today. If you continue on in this manner, _both_ of our weekly rations will be depleted before Thursday." Seven raised an eyebrow in what appeared to be an unspoken dare. "The last time that happened was an unpleasant experience for everyone on the ship. You are… cranky when you're denied your usual intake of coffee."

The command staff seated at the table tried and failed to hide the chuckles that erupted under their breath. Clearing his throat, Harry managed enough seriousness to offer, "Would you two like to join us?"

"If you don't mind?" The captain gave her best smile of thanks as she drew up two more chairs. Settling, she turned to the blonde. "I wouldn't say I was _cranky…_"

"You're correct. _You _wouldn't." The younger woman set one plate down in front of Janeway and one in front of herself. "In fact, neither would I, but I assume that calling the captain of the ship over-bearing and ill-tempered in front of the crew would be out of line," she shot a mischievous side glance at the captain, "even for me."

Janeway glared but said nothing, opting to take a long sip of her water as the others didn't bother to try to hide their chuckles. "Wow, Captain," Tom said with a smirk, "it's only been, what? Two months? And she's already got you whipped."

"Just because I refuse to take that kind of bait doesn't mean I'm whipped, Tom," the captain replied back, eyes narrowing. "Besides, I'm not the one who literally cowered in fear when I realized I'd forgotten my anniversary and didn't have a way to do anything about it."

"Okay, first of all, you're not dating a half-Klingon," he shot back, turning to look at the half-Klingon in question and adding quickly, "which is _not_ a complaint." Before B'elanna could respond, he turned his attention back the captain. "Second of all, you haven't had a year anniversary yet, so there's still time for you to forget, and I'm pretty sure the wrath of an ex-Borg drone would be _far_ worse than the wrath of a half-Klingon."

"Not going to happen," Janeway stated matter of factly. "I put the date down on my calendar."

"See? If the captain can do that, why can't you?" B'elanna gave Tom a little shove in the arm. "It's not that hard."

The pilot groaned. "How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?"

"Ensign Kim," Seven gave Janeway a knowing look before continuing, "I understand you went on a date with Tal Celest recently. Did that go well?"

"You what?" Tom's eyes grew wide. "How come I didn't hear about this?"

"Because I didn't want to jinx it." Harry rubbed awkwardly at the back of his head. "She's a nice girl, you know, and she's kind of shy, so I didn't really want to do anything to scare her off." He scrunched his face up in thought for a second. "I thought we kept it quiet. Seven, how did you find out?"

"I was the next person to have the holodeck after the two of you." She took a bite of the green food, forced it down, and then pushed the rest to the side. "It looked as though it was going well."

"Yeah, I think it did." The young ensign deeply blushed. "I really like her."

"Well, maybe you two will hit if off; then you, too, can join the ranks of the whipped, just like us." Tom motioned between himself and the captain.

Janeway rolled her eyes. "You're really pushing for extra duty shifts in Sickbay, aren't you?"

"Well I, for one, am happy for you, Harry, _and_," B'elanna turned to the other women at the table, "I think it's safe for me to speak for the crew when I say we're _all_ happy for the two of you, Captain. It's nice to see you happy, and it's nice to see Seven has a sense of humor."

"I prefer sarcastic wit," the younger woman dryly replied.

"Or," B'elanna said with an eye roll, "we could call you a sarcastic bitc…"

"OKAY," Tom cut in, "whatever you want to call it, it _is_ nice to see everything seeming to work out for a change."

"Thank you," Seven replied with a nod of her head. "Perhaps, Katie, you were correct," she stated with a hint of despair as she stared at her food. "Coffee seems a better alternative to whatever this is as I don't believe the substances on our plates are actually consumable."

Janeway's posture straightened for a moment, her eyes darting around the others at the table who all seemed to have a stunned look in their eyes. Taking in a breath to calm down the surge of adrenaline that hit her the moment Seven called her by a version of her first name outside of closed quarters, she tried to reply normally, but her tensed voice cracked despite herself. "Well, that's a first."

"It is not the first time I've conceded you were correct regarding a particular subject, if that is what you're implying." Seven sighed and looked over to add to her thought, but she quickly realized something was wrong. Quirking an eyebrow, she asked in a hesitant voice, "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong," Janeway answered in a subdued, gentle voice.

"You know," Tom pushed into the conversation in a friendly voice, "I call her," he nodded to the engineer next time him, "Lanna when no one's around. Sometimes, when we're in Engineering working on stuff together, I forget." He shrugged. "It happens when you start getting comfortable with your significant other."

Seven gave a small shake of her head. "I don't understand…" Stopping her eyes widened a touch, and her head snapped toward the captain. "I'm… sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"I know, and it's okay, Seven." Janeway reached out to place a hand on the younger woman's arm. "We're not on duty, and we're among friends." She gave a smiled that glowed with warmth and affection. "I don't mind."

Waving her hand in the air to dismiss any more talk of the subject, she turned her attention to her plate. "I _do_ mind this green thing, whatever it is. I say we all pony up a few credits, and, between the five of us, we should have enough to replicate a breakfast with enough to feed all of us." She pushed the food around some more on her plate, wincing when what she thought were eggs began to shiver of their own accord.

"I think you should pay," Tom replied, crossing his arms and staring her down. "I know for a fact you have enough rations for it."

"I'm saving those for…" Janeway looked over at Seven and swallowed hard. "…_something_." Clearing her throat, she looked back to the others. "Well?"

"I'm in," B'elanna said, already starting to stand.

Harry nodded, following her lead. "Me, too."

"I would prefer the replicated food to whatever this is." Seven stood, picking up both of their plates. "I am in."

"Good, we can eat in our quarters… _my_ quarters." Janeway winced. "We can eat in my quarters."

Smirks poorly hidden, the others nodded and watched as their captain led them out of the Mess Hall. As they stepped onto the turbolift, they began to laugh aloud at their captain's obvious flustered moment as Seven leaned into Janeway and said in an amused tone, "I prefer an emerald to a diamond solitaire."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I have a deadline to finish a writing thing, so I'm afraid the fan fic is once again going to go dormant for a bit, but I had fun with this, so I may do another J/7 when I pick up fanfic writing again. :-)**


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